What are Ozlandish Writings?

From July 2010 to December 2014 we ran OZLAND PICTURE STORIES as described below. Sadly though the number of writers reduced over the years and we decided to call it a day. We leave these as a record of the good times we had.

Are "You" ready to challenge your writing skills? Then participate in our OZLAND Picture Stories writing series at The Ozland Art Gallery.

Each month a new picture will be picked, from our OZLAND Artist of the Month collection, with different themes. Your goal is to write a 500-1000 word... poem... essay... or story about the picture picked. This is a chance for you to challenge your writing skills each month. Story can be written in ANY genre... sci fi... romance... ghost... fantasy... fiction... non-fiction... biography... mystery... historical... whatever your writing genre... feel free to experiment. Send your writing inworld to Sven Pertelson as a notecard to have it included on the web site. We meet at the The Ozland Art Gallery each Wednesday at Noon and 6pm SLT to read the latest submissions on voice. More Information

Tuesday, June 18, 2013

"Generations" Part 2 by Llola Lane

"Generations" Part 2 by Llola Lane

"Excuse me... Is this for sale," A young man inquired?

Celia looked at him, and then at the rug he was pointing at. She remembered when Uncle Moe gave it to her. That was the happiest day of her life... her wedding day. Who would have thought that she'd be a widow at such a young age? The rug was the last of her wedding day memories that she had held on to. She hated the thought of having to sell it.

Her mind wandered back to her Uncle Moe. He was a great digital artist in Switzerland. He loved nature and he knew she did too. He had commissioned the rug to be made especially for her and her new husband. It was exactly like the digital portrait she had admired on the wall in his gallery. She and her, then, fiancé had visited the gallery for Uncle Moe's grand opening and she kept walking back to look at it. It was amazing how many new things she could find in the image. It had greens, reds, and yellows all over a wonderful background of flowers and greenery. It WAS nature. She loved how it made her feel happy.

After the gallery opening, Uncle Moe asked her to work for him for a few days a week at the gallery. He loved how Celia loved his artwork. If anyone could sell his work, she could. She agreed and every time she opened the gallery door she would walk past the flowers and greenery and smile. She never did manage to sell THAT piece. One by one the artwork around it got sold til it was left alone on the wall.

Then, one day a few months before the wedding, Celia opened the door to the gallery and to her dismay, Hot Afternoon, her favorite piece was gone. Uncle Moe told her that he had sold it the night before. She was devastated but she knew it would happen eventually. Uncle Moe was an artist and even artists NEED to eat. As she walked away she could swear she heard Uncle Moe snicker.

Somehow he had managed to weave the Hot Afternoon artwork into this lovely rug. He presented it to them on their wedding day. The wedding hall was silent when the large present was brought into the room. Uncle Moe made a little speech and she remembered her heart beating so fast she thought it would burst. Everyone was breathless with anticipation as she and her new husband tore off the wrapping. As it was unrolled on the hall floor, everyone gasped at how beautiful it was. Celia herself cried when she saw the image. She thought she would never see it again. Uncle Moe told her he had to tell her the artwork was sold, so that he could have the rug commissioned. The rug maker needed it to make an exact copy. Celia gave her Uncle a hug and told him it was ok. She loved it. It was her favorite of all his artwork... and now it was hers. To enjoy forever!

Or so she thought... Now, she needed the money. Her husband passed away a few years after they were married. He was so young. No one knew he had a brain tumor. One moment he was with her... the next he was gone. It had been a lonely funeral. Few of the family came but Uncle Moe was there to support her. Soon after though, he passed away. Now she was left alone with the house and its contents to sell and pay her many bills. Celia sighed. Like it or not, she HAD to sell the rug.

In her broken English she told the man it was for sale. A big smile came on his face as he looked at the young woman standing next to him. Celia knew that look all to well... they were newlyweds!

"Oh Albert... Let's buy it... pleaseeeeeeeee," the young bride pleaded.

"That rug should have been in my family for generations," Celia stated. "If I didn't need the money it would not be for sale. It needs to go to a GOOD home."

"Oh ma'am please. I will take good care of it. It will see generations of our family enjoying it. I promise." The young woman smiled at Celia and she knew that it would be a promise kept. Celia nodded and the Swiss francs were counted out. The young woman inquired further how the rug was made and Celia told her of its history and about Uncle Moe.

"Moe Sandalwood... I'll remember. He will not be forgotten." The young woman wrote Moe's name on a piece of paper and stuck it on the rug. Then the rug was rolled up to be shipped to America.

Celia watched as the rug made its way out the door and hoped that someday the heirloom would once again find its way back to her family.

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